


Love and Fine Dining

by DocWordsmith, Laily



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Boys In Love, Cuddles, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff without Plot, Foodies, FrostStrange, Humor, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Kisses, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sick Loki (Marvel), Stephen Strange & Wong Friendship, Strangefrost, Teamwork makes the dream work, cowriting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-25 05:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20371657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DocWordsmith/pseuds/DocWordsmith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laily/pseuds/Laily
Summary: A series of (mostly) unrelated one-shots involving Loki and Stephen Strange's adventures in love, in which various food-stuffs are involved.





	1. Chocolate Fondue/Waterfall

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kids. So Laily and I have bonded over our love of Loki/Strange. We came up with a food "bucket list" for scenarios where we'd like to see what our favorite boys would do. And thus, this collection of one-shots was born. We will both be contributing to it, as the ideas come and as we find time. So this should be fun, lol.

Loki was not a fan of crowds. But Stephen had insisted on going out and doing something _fun_, having a proper date night. And Norns help him, Loki couldn’t deny his mortal – especially considering he’d done that pouty thing with his lip and given those wide eyes, drawling out a “Pleeeeasssse, Loki?”

So, Loki had agreed to join Stephen at this. . . _street fair_. They walked, hand-in-hand, and Loki pressed himself close to the Sorcerer’s side, avoiding unnecessary contact with the other humans.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Stephen asked, rubbing his thumb in circles on Loki’s hand.

“Mm,” Loki grunted, out of principle. It really wasn’t as terrible as he had anticipated. It was a beautiful, chilly night. Stephen was wearing an attractive overcoat, while Loki just had a light jacket, for appearances more than anything since the cold had no effect on him. The fair spanned a few city blocks and they strolled along together, visiting the different tables and booths with various crafts items, jewelry, clothing, and the like.

Suddenly, Stephen let loose of Loki’s hand. But it was only so he could step behind him, putting both of his hands on Loki’s shoulders and steering him down a street.

“What are you doing, Strange?” Loki asked, slapping his lover’s hands away and stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

Stephen spun Loki around and looked him in the eyes. “Okay, we can keep wandering around, looking at kitschy crap. Or,” he paused dramatically, his eyes lighting up. “We can visit the booths that actually count for something: The food tables.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, Stephen grabbed Loki’s hand and dragged him behind him, toward a new row of tables and tents. Delectable scents wafted through the air and they inspected several food stands. Some of the options were far more appealing than others and Stephen acted as a proper guide, telling Loki what to sample and what to bypass.

Suddenly, Loki came to a halt. Stephen, who had still been dragging him along by the hand, was jerked backward by the god’s sudden immovability.

“What?” Strange asked, stepping up to Loki’s side and leaning over to follow his line of vision. “Ohhhhh,” Stephen whispered softly, almost reverently.

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Loki asked, not able to peel his eyes away.

Stephen laughed and put his arm around the Trickster’s shoulder. “Yes, my love,” he said as he pecked Loki’s cheek. “That is a chocolate fountain.”

Loki licked his lips and looked at the Sorcerer. “Let’s go,” he stated. Stephen nodded and they stepped into the line for the chocolate fondue.

“What are you going to get?” Stephen asked, pulling Loki close to him with a slight shiver as a cool breeze passed by.

“Um, chocolate?” Loki answered incredulously.

“Well, duh.” Pulling Loki into a hug, Stephen kissed his hair. “I mean, what are you going to get to dip in it?”

Loki’s eyes widened as he pulled back slightly. “You can do that?”

Stephen nodded and Loki gasped lightly. He peered around the people ahead of them, noticing the various snack-foods, just waiting to be skewered and plunged into the waterfall of milk chocolate deliciousness.

Loki was only vaguely aware of his mortal’s lips close to his ears. “If you looked at _me_ the way you’re looking at that chocolate, I would be forced to take you right here.”

As tempting as that was, Loki was a god on a mission. He glanced at Stephen briefly, smiling at him before putting a finger to the man’s lips. “Shh.” Then, looking back to the object of his affections, which they had moved closer to, he teased, “I’m sorry, but I’ve moved on, Stephen. I’ve found a new love.”

Stephen chuckled, squeezing Loki’s shoulders. Finally, they reached the front of the line.

“What can I get you?” the teenage worker asked, looking at the two men expectantly.

Scanning the options, Loki found that he couldn’t choose. He groaned and tugged on the front of Stephen’s coat. “What do you recommend?”

“Oh, I exist now?” Stephen asked playfully. But then he looked at the girl behind the counter. “Two skewers. Let’s do marshmallow, pineapple, and strawberry.”

The girl nodded and prepared the order. Stephen gave her some money and she handed them over. Then, Loki followed Stephen’s lead to the chocolate fountain. The Sorcerer dipped his snacks into the curtain of flowing chocolate. As he did, he explained: “Always go for one of the top rungs of the fountain. That’s where the fresh chocolate is. Plus, that way, you know that children haven’t stuck their fingers in it.”

Loki nodded and mimicked Stephen’s movements, putting the speared snacks under the dark liquid. He was careful to cover every inch of each item on the skewer. When they were done, they stepped away and out of the bustle of people, to enjoy the treat. Loki pulled the chocolate-covered strawberry off the stick and took a bite. The juice ran down his lip and he wiped it away, taking another bite. It was even more delicious than he thought it would be. When he finished the strawberry, he took a bite of the chocolatey marshmallow – the perfect mix of sticky and sweet.

Halfway through the marshmallow, Loki looked up to see Stephen hadn’t taken a single bite and was just staring at him. “What?” the god asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Stephen blinked a few times. “Just – I never realized that someone could look so _sensual_ eating something dipped in chocolate.”

With that in mind, Loki smirked. Keeping his locked on his lover, Loki ran his tongue across what was left of his marshmallow. Stephen gulped hard, making his Adam’s apple bob. Struck with even more mischievous intent, Loki stepped closer to the doctor and leaned forward, taking a bite of Stephen’s strawberry. He licked his lips, slowly. Then he inclined his head slightly, kissing the Sorcerer.

Stephen returned the kiss with fervor, savoring the taste. When they broke apart, Stephen let out a shallow breath. “We should go home,” he whispered in a husky voice. “Now.”

“Okay,” Loki whispered back, nodding.

Sling Ring at the ready, Stephen drew a hasty circle and portaled them back to his bedroom in the Sanctum. Tossing aside the skewers of food, he shoved Loki onto the bed and climbed on top of him, layering him with kisses. Loki laughed and started pulling off Stephen’s clothes.

Suddenly, Stephen paused and pulled back, looking down at Loki as he announced: “By the way, we are _so _buying a chocolate fountain.”


	2. Kaiseki

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“You can but you won’t get to see much, will you? Not until I’m ready.”

“Let me rephrase that. Can I chop off your wrists now? Or would you rather I turn on my awesome Jotunn powers so your fingers fall off my face from frostbite?” Loki could hardly contain his glee; either at the anticipation of whatever surprise Stephen had in store for him, or the prospect of semi-permanently maiming his lover.

Stephen could not quite tell which, and he would rather not ask for clarification, thank you very much.

He tutted. “So hostile, my darling. To think that I’ve gone to all this trouble to bring you…”

His hands still tightly covering Loki’s eyes, he guided his lover to the bamboo sliding doors that opened out onto the balcony. With a nudge of magic, the bamboo panes slid silently open.

“Here.”

His hands fell away, and he felt _and_ heard Loki gasp. Unconsciously, Stephen leaned forward just as Loki leaned back against him, and his arms automatically wrapped around his Ice Prince’s slender waist.

He placed his chin on Loki’s shoulder, and relished in the feel of the tips of unruly black hair tickling the side of his face.

He brushed his lips against the lobe of Loki’s ear. “Happy Anniversary, Loki.”

“Oh Stephen,” Loki murmured. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Stephen’s only response was a soft, dry kiss at the dimple on his temple.

Silently they watched the falling snow as it rolled off the roof of their private ryokan suite, snow as white and pure as the peaks of the sprawling mountains in the distance, majestic and sacred against the soft grey of the skies. 

Stephen watched the breath leave Loki’s slightly ajar lips in small, white puffs. “Are you cold?”

“I don’t feel the cold anymore.” Loki’s fingers curled around Stephen’s forearm, the one still loosely wrapped around his waist. “Not when I’m with you.”

“Wanna see another surprise?” Without waiting for an answer, Stephen released Loki from his embrace and grabbed for his wrist.

When Loki did not budge, Stephen turned around to look.

“What’s the matter?”

Loki looked almost…scared, eyes wide and unblinking against a suddenly tight face.

“Why are you doing this, Stephen?”

“Because I love you, silly.” Stephen laughed a soft, tinkling laughter. “And this is what people do for the ones they love.”

There was still a ways to go before Loki could truly trust anybody and the thought of giving his heart freely, to lose himself in this whirlwind of intoxicating romance and the promises of warmth and love and protection…it terrified him.

And it showed.

Stephen released his wrist. He took a step closer toward his petrified lover and met Loki’s gaze head-on.

“There’s nothing to fear, Loki.” Stephen reassured him. “Not when you’re with me.”

And slowly but surely, the turbulence bled away from Loki’s eyes as all lingering doubt and uncertainty evaporated like magic.

Perhaps it was.

The fear of taking chances was not as terrifying as the fear of missing them.

This time, he reached out for Stephen’s hand. “You were saying?”

By the time Stephen had led him outside onto the balcony and walked him past the small, but tasteful rock garden, Loki’s sensitive nose had picked up the very faint scent of sulphur and he was practically skipping with anticipation –

“Oh Stephen.” His voice had risen a few notches in sheer delight. “You’ve really, really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’ve never met anyone who loves long baths more than you do, so.” Stephen shrugged casually.

Loki was almost giddy with excitement. “Our own private _onsen_ bath?”

Stephen nodded.

“I don’t have to share with anyone?”

Stephen hesitated, Loki’s face fell –

“Am I anyone, Loki?” And Loki’s face stopped falling. 

“Of course you’re not, silly. You’re not just anyone.” Loki’s eyes were the softest Stephen had ever seen them. “You’re my…”

“Yes?” Stephen breathed.

“Back scrubber!” And suddenly a bamboo basket containing a loofa and dainty bottles of things one presumably washed with flew off the ground and smacked Stephen in the side of the face.

Stephen shouted and would have retaliated had Loki not already jumped into the pool, as happy as Stephen had ever seen him, and as naked as a jaybird.

The sight of his lover frolicking in the hot spring, partially-hidden in the balmy shadows from the steam rising off the near-scalding water roused something deep within Stephen’s gut.

No. This was not lust.

Loki’s green eyes pierced the filmy veil of the vapor, as brilliant as the finest gem.

This was love.

“Come _on_, back scrubber!” Droplets of hot water pelted him in the face.

With a growl, Stephen lost all pieces of clothing in record time and jumped into the bath. If he could not make Loki properly and officially his by the end of this trip, then he was not Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange.

_Loki Strange. _

Yeah.

Pure, gut-punching, _breath-stealing_ love.

________________________________________________

Loki had long since given up trying to get Stephen to unhand him; after their languorous, ehem, session in the outdoor bath, Stephen could not seem to keep his hands off him.

Again, Stephen had his hands around Loki’s eyes. “And after a nice, long soak…”

“Is this really necessary, Strange?” Loki asked dryly. “You think I can’t tell we’re having dinner in our room? I have a very keen sense of smell you know.”

“Yes, but your eyes are the only things I can close so forgive me if I wish to hold on to the element of surprise for just a little bit longer…”

Blinking against the blackness that was the cupped palm of Stephen’s hands, Loki felt the sharp tips of Stephen’s elbows dig into his shoulders, pushing him down. “No chair?”

“No. We sit on the floor, the traditional Japanese way.”

“Oh.” Loki sat down cross-legged on what felt like a very soft, plush piece of cushion.

He blinked again to a suddenly bright, colourful world, but no sight was as breath-taking as the vision that was sitting expectantly across him.

“Well? Doesn’t it look absolutely mouth-watering?”

Stephen was wearing a yukata of a deep, navy blue that may just be one size too big

_or maybe he picked it on purpose_

“Yes,” Loki said softly. “Yes, it does.”

Its plunging neckline was leaving nothing to the imagination, and Loki simply could not tear his eyes away from the tantalising muscles in his lover’s neck, the seductive hint of a collarbone just peeking and asking to be

_eaten_

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“You look like you’re a million miles away.” It was a statement, but the small frown on Stephen’s forehead was clearly a question.

“I’m here, Stephen.” Loki gave a weak, half-smile.

He forced himself to look away and his gaze landed on the lavish spread before him, and for the – third? Fourth? he had lost count – time since they arrived, Loki found himself gobsmacked into silence.

“Is this…food?” he asked uncertainly.

Stephen blinked. As though Loki’s question unnerved him, he too bent his head forward and studied the various dishes and platters in front of them.

He was beginning to understand Loki’s reservations; everything looked as pretty as a picture…almost too pretty to eat.

“Shall I call the proprietor and ask?” he asked lightly.

A spot of colour rouged Loki’s cheeks. “Don’t be silly, Stephen. You wouldn’t want to appear uncultured, would you.”

Appearing to gather his resolve, Loki toyed with the chopsticks, before abandoning them in favour of the small cup in front of him. “Since I have no idea how to go about this, how about some apéritif to start?”

“Good idea.” Stephen laughed, and poured some sake into Loki’s cup. “Careful. I have a feeling this is strong.”

“I can handle my liquor, Strange,” Loki said dryly.

“I’m sure you can,” Stephen said coolly.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Yes?” Stephen sounded almost irritated at the interruption.

But Loki welcomed it instead. He waved the young lady inside, and she rose from her kneeling position outside the slightly parted _shouji_ doors.

Loki began speaking to the server in rapid-fire Japanese; it seemed to be a request for the girl explain the dishes to him, and as she pointed to each item on the table, she was careful to hold the voluminous sleeve of her kimono to her body to not let it get in their food.

Stephen watched the exchange in fascination and – no, it would not do to become this aroused just listening to Loki’s lulling voice; Japanese was such a melodious language. Never mind that it was only Allspeak, it was turning Stephen on all the same.

That, and the ravishing lines of Loki’s long neck as he craned forward to peer at something the girl was pointing at the far end of the long table.

Stephen swallowed hard. He fought the urge to sweep his arm across the table to topple everything onto the floor just so he could rip, no, _gently_ take the yukata, and everything else, off Loki and take him right then and right there on the dinner table –

“Stephen? Are you listening?”

“Hmm?” Stephen blinked. The young lady was gone, and Loki was looking at him expectantly.

“Now _you’re_ a million miles away,” Loki said, cocking an elegant eyebrow.

“Ah.” Stephen bared his teeth into what he hoped was an appeasing smile. “Sorry.”

“Shall I tell you what we are having for dinner today?” Loki rose to a kneeling position, and just like the girl did, pulled his billowing sleeve toward him. Somehow that accentuated Loki’s figure even more and Stephen died just a little bit inside.

“As Haruhi-chan has kindly explained to me, _kaiseki ryori_ is Japanese dining at its finest, a multi-course haute cuisine, but fear not, there isn’t any specific rules as to what you should eat first or last or in-between so you can go crazy and start with whatever you fancy –”

Loki lifted an elegant finger.

“But! Having said that, it _is_ an art form…all the dishes are specifically created and prepared to complement each other in term of appearance, colour, texture, and of course, taste. So please don’t go crazy. You _are_ dining with royalty.”

Stephen sniffed, not unfondly. 

Loki pointed to a long, rectangular platter. “The _hassun_, or the appetiser. It sets the theme of the dinner depending on what is seasonal, so today we are having pickled cucumber, Yubari melon cubes, and assorted sushi.”

“Next, we have the _mukozuke_, which is basically a dish of sliced things so…here we have the freshest sashimi, and yes, I checked, all this was alive right until it was time to make dinner so do indulge without fear, Doctor.” Loki started from the slices of seafood that were the most recognisable. “There is fresh tuna, salmon belly, octopus, scallop, and some kind of white fish my Allspeak did not translate.”

“ – wagyu beef, oh would you just _look_ at the marbling on that one –”

“ – grilled mackerel –”

“ – red bean and black sesame mochi – ”

It could be the sake but Stephen’s head was _swimming_.

“_Ko no mono_ or seasonal, home-pickled vegetables, and for today we have eggplant and rapini.” Loki crinkled his nose. “You can have mine, Stephen.”

He lifted the lid of another by magic because the dish was just too far away, “_Su-zakana,_ served to refresh the palate, it’s comprised of crispy vegetables and wild plants stewed in vinegar. Keep that on your side of the table, Stephen, I don’t think I’ll eat that one either.”

Stephen laughed silently. For someone so old, Loki was one hell of a picky eater.

“_Takiawase_, a medley of vegetables, meat, fish and tofu, all to be simmered separately,” Loki hesitated. “You don’t mind if I do the simmering, do you? You know I hate it when my fish smells of meat…”

“It’s your night, Loki. You can do whatever you want.” Stephen gave him an indulgent smile, which quickly turned into a teasing smirk. “It’s been a while since you cooked anything for me.”

“Excuse me, did I not make you breakfast in bed yesterday?”

“I wouldn’t call pouring cereal into a bowl making me breakfast…”

Loki opened his mouth to interject, but Stephen was quick to seal it with a wink. “And oatmeal doesn’t count either.”

“You’re a hard man to please, Stephen Strange.”

Stephen snorted. “Look who’s talking. We must have walked twenty blocks until you finally found a restaurant you liked yesterday. My thighs are still aching from all the walking.”

Stephen waited for Loki to continue with his impeccable rendition of Traditional Japanese Ryokan Cuisine 101 but it never came –

The next thing he knew, Loki was straddling his hips.

Long, pale fingers began kneading his thighs. “Here?” a husky whisper.

“Yes. _Oh_, that feels good…” Stephen leaned back in his _zaisu_ floor chair, not realising that the stretching movement was pulling his yukata robes apart, revealing even more chest and driving Loki crazy all eight ways to Sunday.

The first of the kisses came suddenly, deep and hard enough to bruise, and the hands left his thighs to grab the hair at the back of his head by the handful –

_“Stephen…”_

Loki surged against him and Stephen gripped the sides of Loki’s torso to keep from toppling out of his seat and onto the floor.

_“Loki…”_

“What about dinner?” Stephen teased, mumbling against Loki’s deliciously soft lips.

Loki breathed in his ear, hot and on _fire_. “Do you mind very much if I go straight for dessert?”

A night at this private _onsen_ resort cost Stephen a fortune, but it was a fortune well spent, anyone who tried to tell him otherwise be damned.

And as Loki’s hands slipped inside his yukata and roamed the expanse of his chest, Stephen’s tongue slipped where it had never been allowed in before, and the _taste_ of Loki made his head spin and his heart race, just at the thought of all the possibilities, of the many, many more potential nights just like this.

It must have been something in the water. Or the sake, which may or may not have been all that strong, but not entirely blameless.

Something in the air, spelling the start of something real, something worth fighting for.

_A future together_

Or maybe it was just two people in love.

Whatever it was, it was worth it.

Loki was worth it.


	3. Chicken Soup for the Asgardian Soul

“Loki.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s two p.m.”

A long silence.

“Hmm.”

“Have you been in bed all day? Since I left?”

“…you left?”

Something was not quite right with this picture.

Stephen sat himself on the bed. The cocoon of blankets and pillows in the middle of the bed did not budge.

“Loki, are you sick?”

“I don’t get sick,” came the automatic reply.

Stephen sighed. So Norse gods don’t get sick huh? For all his boasting, Loki was just as susceptible to run-of-the-mill Midgardian ailments, it seemed.

That’s one null hypothesis disproven, Stephen thought with dismay and not an insignificant amount of glee.

A sudden round of earth-shattering, rapid-fire sneezes interrupted Stephen's thoughts, and as abruptly as it had come, his glee diminished. “Loki, let me take a look at you.”

“I’m fine, Stephen. Go away.”

“Fat chance. If anyone could get into trouble from a simple cold, it’s you.”

The only response was a soft, pitiful whimper, one obviously meant to be muffled by the mountain of blankets but picked up anyway by Stephen’s magically enhanced hearing. If only his heightened sensitivity extended to his bedside manners.

“Loki, don’t be such a baby and let me have a look,” Stephen growled impatiently.

When Loki did not respond, Stephen took that as consent and he began pulling the layers of blanket off his sort-of boyfriend one by one.

“Loki, you feel like a furnace!” The heat was radiating off him in waves.

“J-just a bit…chilly.”

Stephen grew more agitated at the sight of Loki shaking violently the moment his skin was exposed to the open.

“This isn’t chills, Loki. This is rigor!”

Loki made a grab for the blankets once more but his fingers clutched empty air as Stephen exposed the rest of his body.

“Stephen!” Loki’s teeth chattered.

Stephen’s eyes roamed the length of Loki’s body, and the dread dissipated when he found no tell-tale rash or bruising. At least it was looking less and less likely to be meningitis. Not that Stephen had the barest idea what meningitis would look like on Loki.

“Symptoms?” he said snappishly.

Loki gritted his teeth. “None.”

Stephen stared at him with eyes deader than doornails.

“I’m not sick. I am Loki. I am untouchable.”

“Right,” Stephen said dryly. He poked a sharp finger into the flesh of Loki’s upper arm with every intention to rile his delusional lover up but ended up worrying instead at how easily the usually taut skin gave under pressure and how much longer it took for the dimpling to disappear.

“Loki, you’re dehydrated. When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”

“My throat is full of razor blades,” Loki muttered.

“And where else?”

“Head.” Loki winced. “Eyeballs.”

“Does your stomach hurt? Do you feel like being sick?”

Loki gave a very careful shake of his head. “Just a little queasy.”

At Stephen’s glare, he amended reluctantly. “A lot queasy.”

Stephen let out a resigned sigh. “Just stay put.”

“Where else am I gonna go.” Loki pulled the blanket and burrowed himself once more. He mumbled, “Silly Stephen.”

_____________________________________________

“Loki.”

A grunt.

“Loki, sit up.”

“Tell the world to stop spinning then maybe I will.”

“Oh dear. I should have known.”

“…known what.” When wariness and irritation coalesced, it sounded a lot like exasperated exhaustion.

“You really are quite similar so I’m not all that surprised.”

“Stephen,” a low growl heralded the oncoming of a storm, courtesy of one very pissy, congested alien.

“You’re much cuter than Sheldon, though.” Stephen had to smile. “The whiny part is uncanny.”

That evoked a response. Loki’s head poked through the mound of blankets.

Stephen took a moment to take in the sallow complexion and limp black hair clinging to the sides of Loki's face and neck, sticky with fever sweats. “I take it back. Sheldon Cooper is a lot better-looking.”

Stephen reached out a hand to sweep sweat-soaked locks of hair from the burning forehead. “Oh Loki…”

At the gentle way Stephen said his name, Loki felt something in him give.

“Stephen…” His eyes brimmed with tears. “I think I’m dying.”

“Nonsense.” Stephen dug through the blankets and upon excavating his lover’s shaking form, he immediately wrapped his arms around him and reburied them both under the duvet with a nudge of magic.

“You just caught a nasty bug, Loki.”

Loki’s face sought the warmest part of Stephen’s upper body to nuzzle and settled in the crook of his neck. The warmth of Loki’s breath against his skin was alarming. Stephen laid a hand against the side of his head and chanted a cooling spell under his breath.

Loki sighed in relief as the incessant hammering in his head let up slightly. The fire still burned in his eyeballs. “The bug is cooking my brains. I can feel it stirring them over an open fire. Like the wok-fried noodles we had in Hong Kong.”

Stephen massaged the back of Loki’s scalp gently. “You feel up to eating something?”

Loki shook his head and buried his nose deeper into underside of Stephen’s jaw. “You smell nice.”

“That’s the chicken soup.”

“You made chicken soup?”

Stephen nodded. He could feel Loki’s long eyelashes tickle the sensitive skin of his neck as he blinked once. Twice.

“For me?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Duh.”

But his exasperation quickly turned to concern when the sweeping lashes became unusually wet and before long, a peculiar wetness trailed down his neck. “Loki?”

Loki’s tears were _hot_, hotter than the rest of his fever-ravaged body. 

“Loki, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

Stephen inhaled deeply. “Try again, Odinson.”

Loki sniffled. He knew how much Stephen hated it whenever Loki answered him with one of his less-illustrious answers.

But he was not all that sure he would be able to contain his emotions, not with the sickness making him more than a little stupid and needy and clingy and –

“My Mother,” Loki whispered.

Yes, he supposed his tongue was a little loose too.

Stephen’s fingers stilled in the midst of massage. He waited.

When Loki made no further effort to elaborate, Stephen resumed his massage, kneading Loki’s temples in gentle, circular motions.

“How about some soup then?” he asked huskily.

Loki nodded.

He helped Loki sit up, and propped a stack of pillows for him to lean against.

“Comfortable?”

“Much, thank you.” Loki closed his eyes as he willed the walls to stop moving and threatening to swallow him whole.

He felt Stephen lean across the front of his body to reach for the food container on his bedside table.

Stephen stirred the broth. It was still too hot to eat, steam rising off the bowl in wisps of delicious-smelling vapour.

“Chicken meat is rich with cysteine, it’s an amino acid chemically similar to a compound known as acetylcysteine, which can help clear mucus, make you feel less congested,” he murmured.

“_How_ interesting.”

“The gelatin from the collagen is a source of hydrophilic colloids, they stimulate the production of gastric juices and facilitate digestion.”

“Really.”

“There’s also some ginger in it too to help sweat your fever out, and a pinch of turmeric, not just for colour and flavour, but for its unique antioxidant properties. Keeps you looking young.” After a beat, a sardonic, "Younger."

“Uh-uh.”

“Just a splash of apple cider vinegar for kicks, and finally a sprinkle of sea salt to taste -" Stephen lifted a spoonful of broth, a proud smile on his face, "- and there you have it."

“Dr Stephen Strange’s Immunity-boosting Chicken Soup, Fit for the Gods.”

“You looked up the recipe, didn’t you.”

Stephen looked offended. “Excuse me. I am capable of doing things without looking it up on Youtube, you know.”

Loki returned his smile, albeit with a weaker one of his own. “Don’t you humans have a manual for everything?”

“Read anything interesting lately?”

“Beekeeping for Dummies.”

Stephen smiled wistfully. He gave Loki a knowing look. “You’re one of a kind, Loki.”

“I’d better not be, because I feel like I could go extinct any time.” Loki leaned his head back and a soft groan emitted from his throat. “How do you humans _do_ this?”

“With this. Open your mouth.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of feeding me, are you?”

Stephen’s spoon stilled in mid-air.

“When you were sick, did your Mother feed you or did you feed yourself?” he asked quietly.

Loki’s eyes began to shine with tears. He nodded brusquely and said nothing.

“Careful.” Gathering his resolve, Stephen brought the spoon closer to Loki’s lips. He watched Loki sip it with the courage of one caught in a bloody battlefield and he was on the losing side.

“How is it?” Stephen asked in suspense.

Loki smacked his lips with a grimace. “Can’t taste anything. It's too hot.”

“Oh, sorry.” Stephen stirred the broth some more and with the next spoonful, began to blow on it to cool it down.

He looked up only to see Loki hastily wipe the back of his hand against his cheek.

“Loki.” Stephen’s heart ached. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” Loki gave him a shaky smile. “In fact, it could not be better.”

Stephen stared at him suspiciously. “I’m going to need a bit more convincing than that.”

Loki let out a soft, hoarse laugh. “It’s really nothing, Stephen.”

“I just…never thought someone would…you know. For me.” He waved a shaky hand at Stephen and his precious bowl of soup. “Now that Mother’s gone.”

Stephen secured the soup securely in his lap and leaned in to give Loki a gentle, reassuring kiss on the lips.

“Have I convinced you now?” he asked softly.

The tears finally escaped, and Stephen proceeded to kiss them away, one by one, cheek by cheek.

“I love you, Stephen,” Loki said finally. “Just in case I don’t make it.”

That finally did _it_. Stephen scoffed. “Don’t be an idiot. It’s just the flu! Now shut up and eat your soup!”

And after half a bowl of immunity-boosting chicken soup had been successfully dispatched of,

“Stephen.”

“Hmm?”

“Is Sheldon Cooper really cuter than me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory - the biggest, whiniest baby in TV history when he's sick.
> 
> I woke up sick this morning but had to drag myself to work anyway. This is the result.


	4. Wong's Musings About Whipped Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wong didn't really mind that Loki spent so much time at the Sanctum. He was just confused about the increased amount of groceries they had to buy. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being kind of MIA lately, friends. Not really sure where this installment came from - just the randomness of my sleep-deprived brain, I guess. Hope this holds you over until Laily & I can provide something with a wee bit more substance here. :) xoxo, Doc

Loki had basically moved into the Sanctum Sanctorum. He technically still “lived” in New Asgard, and sometimes he and Stephen would spend a night or weekend there. But for the most part, Loki was a regular fixture in the Sanctum.

That didn’t bother Wong at all. Okay, maybe they could be a little nauseating with their PDA sometimes.

And so what if Wong had decided to move his room farther away from Strange’s. He cited it as being due to his own room having the wrong kind of energy so he was moving to one with a better ‘vibe.’ No one had to know that the real reason was because his old room was right next door to Strange’s and the walls were paper-thin and there were far too many noises coming from Strange and Loki in the night. Honestly, if there was a noise ordinance in the Sanctum, they would have been arrested a hundred times over. Plus, Wong was pretty certain that one of these days, the wall was going to cave in – if the slamming of the headboard was any indication.

But, Strange was his best friend. And Loki made him undeniably, unequivocally _happy_, which was really all Wong could ask for. So the fact that Strange and Loki were dating—and copulating like rabbits every chance they got—was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

In fact, it actually ended up being better for everyone since it kept Loki out of trouble. He and Wong even got to help the Avengers out on missions now and then.

When Strange was busy working as Sorcerer Supreme, protecting Earth and the known galaxies, Loki pretty much kept to himself. He’d pop in and out from New Asgard, or spend time in the library. Sometimes he’d even go to the _real_ library to get regular novels, and would sit with a cup of tea and read.

After a while, Loki and Wong started talking and they even developed a sort of acquaintance. Wong liked the guy and he often had some good suggestions about magical theory – especially when it came to disarming charmed objects, or figuring out what some new magic artifact was used for (and if it was safe).

Yeah, Wong didn’t mind having Loki around.

What he did mind, however, was the fact that grocery list had so many repeat items on it. And always the strangest things. The most common occurrence was whipped cream – which seemed to barely last a day or two in the ‘house’ before they were out and it was on the list again.

At first, Wong thought maybe it was some alien thing. Maybe Loki was fascinated by terrestrial cuisine and when he found something new or that he liked he went overboard with it. Then, Wong thought maybe Loki was concocting magical elixirs and substituting ingredients for things that couldn’t be found on earth.

But one night, when Wong couldn’t sleep, he decided to head down for a midnight snack. He heard voices in the kitchen and carefully peeked in the room.

Strange was leaning against the wall, with Loki clinging to him and peppering kisses all along the man’s face and neck. That wasn’t an unusual sigh, actually. What _was_ unusual, though, was when Strange grabbed Loki by the shoulders to gently push him away before making his way over to the refrigerator. He pulled out a can of Redi-Whip, grabbed Loki’s hand, and the pair disappeared in a swirl of green.

He didn’t even need to imagine the sounds that were likely emanating from Strange’s room already. 

Wong straightened up, blinked his eyes, and sighed. “So _that’s _where the whipped cream is going,” he mused aloud. With a chuckle, he pushed his way into the kitchen. He made himself a snack and turned to head back to his room. Before he did, he paused and, deciding to be proactive, he grabbed a pen and went to the grocery list.

And if Strange and Loki both had blushes at the breakfast table the next morning when they saw that Wong had already added whipped cream to the shopping list, Wong pretended not to notice.


	5. Breakfast of Champions

“What’s all this?”

“Breakfast,” Stephen answers simply.

Loki peers at him through bleary eyes from under the covers. “Why?”

“Why not? It wakes you up, stimulates your digestion, gets you going – ” Stephen steals all the pillows from under Loki’s head, forcing him to sit up. “And because I’ve had enough of eating alone.”

“I don’t get hungry till I get hungry, Strange,” Loki grumbles but he acquiescently lifts his hands off his lap so Stephen could lay a napkin across it.

“Yes, I know. That’s why you ask for breakfast food when it’s dinnertime, and heavy supper when it’s three o’clock in the morning,” Stephen chirps. “No wonder you’re so grouchy all the time, you can’t be happy when your digestive system isn’t.”

Loki glares. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re _very_ annoying in the morning?”

“You don’t find this romantic?” Stephen asks lightly.

“Back in Asgard the only time someone brings food to your bedroom is when you’re in prison or when you’re dying. And believe me, I’ve been both, and there’s nothing romantic about that.” Loki winces. They are not very pleasant memories after all.

“Well here on Earth, people do it as a nice gesture for someone they…care about.”

“Like who?” Loki asks warily.

Stephen shrugs. “It’s a well-known tradition for Mother’s Day. The one day world-weary mothers are brought breakfast in bed by family members as a token of appreciation.”

“Yes, and I’m sure mothers all over the world look forward to cleaning up the kitchen afterwards,” Loki mutters.

He surveys the breakfast tray. He has to admit it does look impressive.

His stomach seems to agree for it gives a sudden growl at the sight of Dutch baby pancakes, a fluffy bed of heavenly goodness topped with brown sugar, ground cinnamon, and cream bejeweled with caramelized persimmons.

He looks at the other half of the tray and his mouth waters at the sight of the golden and perfect-looking omelette.

"I can't believe you made all this."

The smell of freshly roasted coffee beans wafts from his favourite coffee mug, the Game of Thrones one with the direwolf’s head emblem that says ‘I Know Everything’, the one he made Stephen buy for him because it sounded funny (and happens to be true).

Stephen's hand hovers over the coffee cup. After a few seconds, he uncovers it.

Loki peers in and simply has to laugh - the latte art is in his likeness and is totally, what's that word Wong once used? Right. Insta worthy.

"I need a new helmet. That one looks out of date."

Stephen only laughs.

“And what’s this for?” Loki points at what looks like an empty miniature vase in one corner of the breakfast tray.

Maybe Loki doesn’t know everything.

“For this.” Stephen produces a long stem rose by magic from somewhere behind him, its petals deliciously red against the white of the porcelain tableware, and the starchy linen tray cloth.

“Gosh,” Loki murmurs. “There isn’t a wedding ring underneath this mountain of eggs, is there?”

“Would you like there to be?” Stephen asks quietly.

Loki stares. The glimmer in his eyes disappears, leaving in its wake a glazed look.

“It was a joke, Strange.”

“Sometimes I can’t quite tell with you.” Stephen’s voice was still quiet.

Stephen watches as Loki cuts through the omelette with a fork gingerly, almost fearfully. When the clang of stainless steel against porcelain comes with a clean 'ting', they both let out breaths they do not realise they are holding.

Is that disappointment Stephen sees in Loki’s eyes? Or relief?

How can something so different, sentiments so distinct from each other look so equivocal, so similar?

Loki sniffs the forkful of eggs delicately.

“No onions, Loki,” Stephen reassures. “Just the way you like it.”

Loki hums noncommittally. The first mouthful he chews slowly, thoroughly.

A tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “Tastes different.”

“Good different or bad different?” Stephen doesn’t know why he is so nervous all of a sudden.

That should be a no-brainer for Loki begins digging into the omelette with gusto. “I hope this is a breakfast for one because I’m not sharing.”

Stephen’s heart sings.

“You’ve added something extra,” Loki mumbles. In the blink of an eye, he has polished almost half of the three-egg omelette.

“Yes, I’ve added some – ” Stephen starts to elaborate but an elegant finger stops him in mid-sentence.

Loki’s tongue does the sweeping thing inside his oral cavity again. “Smoked paprika.”

Stephen nods.

“Fresh mint.”

Stephen nods again.

Loki licks the salt from his lips. “And…jamón.”

Trust Loki’s very discerning palate to dissect even the humblest breakfast fare down to the micronutrient, and true to form, Loki’s eyes begin to dance. “And not just any jamón.”

Smiles are contagious. “Not just,” Stephen agrees.

“Jamón ibérico de bellota…” Loki suddenly realises something and the smile leaves his eyes. His fork drops with a clang.

Stephen panics at the look of panic on Loki’s face, now a good three shades paler.

“What? What is it?” Stephen’s eyes widen. “Are you allergic?”

But how can he be? Stephen saw the way Loki ate it when they had it in a beautiful coastal café back when they were ‘vacationing’ in Galicia –

“Stephen,” Loki whispers angrily. “How much did you spend?”

“What?”

“Something this fine can cost up to thousands of dollars per piece!”

Stephen frowns. Seldom does Loki concern himself with the cost of mortal living. Stephen has always thought it is because of his privileged upbringing; there must be something about being raised in a royal household that makes one find paying for anything beneath him.

But on the other hand, Stephen feels somewhat touched. “Where did you learn that?”

“The Food Network,” Loki says matter-of-factly, his challenging tone daring Stephen to prove him wrong.

Stephen does not have the heart to say he got it for free – the pig farmer in Andalucia he procured the ham from owes him a huge favour after all.

It may be the twenty-first century, but Brujería is still rampant in modern Spain. Stephen finds witchcraft abhorrent, how it can be used to hurt anyone and not just wealthy pig-farmers. So when people come to him for help, he does what he can.

“You shouldn’t have, Strange,” Loki mutters.

“Only the finest for you, Loki.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Loki repeats.

“Is this going to be an issue?” Stephen asks. “With us?”

Loki does not answer.

“It’s just an omelette, Loki,” Stephen says gently. “It’s just ham.”

Loki still looks very uncertain.

“You must be used to people showering you with the finer things in life, what with you being a God and a Prince to boot.”

“I am,” Loki says quietly. “Just not like this. Not from – ” his voice trails off. His eyes drop.

“From me?” Stephen guesses.

Is Stephen going too fast? How far along does one have to be in a relationship before breakfast-in-beds are acceptable from a time point of view? He has no idea.

Neither does Loki, it seems.

Loki searches Stephen’s face in stark wonder.

When he finally speaks, he is calmer and more composed. “From someone who is not a servant.”

Against all odds, he manages to make his shrug look casual. “Or a devotee who happens to want something from me.”

Stephen leans over and props a hand on the other side of Loki’s blanket-clad legs. “Oh, but I do want something from you.”

The bamboo breakfast tray with the half-empty dish is in the way and he makes it disappear.

Now there is no barrier between them.

When one wants something, one must not be afraid to ask for it. You never know which God may be listening in.

“I want a whole lot of somethings from you,” Stephen says huskily.

He hopes he is lucky enough that said God sitting in front of him right within arm’s reach is not only listening, but also…

Loki brings his face closer. “No such thing as free lunch, eh?”

Stephen shakes his head. His heart thunders in his chest. “Only the finest for you.”

This up close, the gold flecks in his irises make Loki’s green eyes shine like gems. “Are _you_ my offering?”

Stephen answers with his lips.

Loki savours the offering and likes what he’s tasting.

Breakfast abandoned, clothes are soon shed and now lie in a pile at the foot of the bed.

“Only the finest indeed,” he murmurs against Stephen’s soft, soft lips. “I do hope there’s more.”

Stephen pulls away, only to bury his face in Loki’s white, white neck. It’s his turn to partake, and breakfast has never tasted quite so _divine_.

“Darling, for you there is always more.”

At the delicious sound of Loki’s low moan, Stephen sighs happily. _“Always.”_


	6. Baking Confessions

In hindsight, trying to bake a cake from scratch with the _literal_ god of chaos was probably not the smartest thing Stephen Strange had ever done.

Unfortunately, the kitchen suffered the most for it. It looked like a flour factory had exploded. Several layers of other ingredients were strewn about the floor and countertops of the kitchen: Sugar, eggs, cocoa, powdered sugar, chocolate chips, vanilla, milk, sprinkles, and margarine. . . plus, piles of goop wherever the ingredients had mixed together.

Loki stood on one end of the kitchen island, arms folded over his chest, glaring, and inhaling sharply through his noise. Stephen was leaning with his palms on the counter across the island, grinding his teeth.

“Why,” Loki began slowly, “did I let you talk me into this?”

Stephen barked out a laugh. “Why did—how the—are you _kidding_ me?”

Loki raised an eyebrow and tapped his foot on the floor impatiently with his foot, waiting on the Sorcerer to elaborate. Stephen growled and looked down at the floor. “You didn’t _let_ me do anything,” Strange said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his cool. He pointed at Loki, narrowing his eyes. “You’re the one who binge-watched all those baking shows on Netflix and said how easy it all looked.”

“I was making a passing comment,” Loki argued. “_You’re_ the one who took it as a challenge!”

“No, I thought it’d be fun to do _together_. Then you had to turn it into a competition – _against_ _me_!” Stephen pounded his fist against the counter, instantly sucking in a sharp breath at the pain that radiated through his hand. Loki clicked his tongue and his eyes softened.

“Well, don’t hurt yourself over it,” Loki chided.

Stephen looked at his partner, glaring daggers. He tried to come up with a scathing reply, but then noticed that Loki had chocolate on his cheek – the dark of the cacao a stark contrast to the mage’s creamy white skin. It was entirely too adorable. Before he could stop himself, Stephen snickered. It started out as quiet, stifled chuckling, but quickly became too hard to contain. Then, Stephen was laughing out loud.

Loki narrowed his eyes and let out a growl from deep in his throat. “What in Hel are you laughing about?”

Pulling himself together as best he could, Stephen again held back his laughter and pointed at his own cheek. “You’ve got a little something,” he said.

Loki mirrored Stephen’s gesture and wiped at the chocolate frosting. He looked at his fingers, going a bit cross-eyed to do so, and Stephen was ready to burst into another giggling fit at how precious the mischief-maker looked. Surprisingly, Loki looked up from his chocolatey fingers, making eye contact with the Sorcerer Supreme. . . and he _smiled_. Then, he pointed towards Stephen, in a vague gesture.

“You’ve got some, too,” he explained.

Stephen glanced down at his black shirt, which was speckled with flour and powdered sugar. He snorted and threw his hands out to the side. “I don’t think this is how the ingredients were intended to be used.”

Loki gave him a lop-sided grin in return before crossing the kitchen floor – carefully, so as not to slip on the baking substances at his feet. He stepped around the countertop so he was next to Stephen at the end of the island. Strange turned to face him, matching his smirk.

“I don’t know,” Loki said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. A devious glimmer lit in his eyes and he glanced down to where a glob of frosting was settling onto on the counter. Loki smirked and dipped his fingers into the frosting.

Stephen’s eyes widened and he held his hands up in front of his chest defensively. “Now, Loki,” he warned, backing up a couple paces. Loki took a step forward, following him. “I want you to think _really hard_ before you do whatever it is you’re about to do. . .”

Loki paused for a moment, looking as if he was deep in thought. Then, he shrugged and let out a soft, whiny little hum. Stephen couldn’t help smiling at him, stopping his retreat and putting his hands down. He opened his mouth to say something—and that was the moment Loki chose to _strik_e. Wicked fast, Loki’s hand darted forward, slathering frosting all over Stephen’s face, from his forehead down. By the time his hand was nearby Stephen’ mouth, the Sorcerer was ready, though. He leaned forward and playfully bit down on Loki’s fingers.

The action didn’t seem to faze Loki, or even surprise him in the slightest. He didn’t move his hand, allowing Stephen to lick and _suck_ the remaining sugary cream from his fingers. Finally, Loki pulled his fingers free and smirked at his lover.

“Don’t try to trick a Trickster, darling,” he teased. Then, he placed his hands on Stephen’s shoulders and, in another swift movement, leaned forward and ran his tongue in a straight line up the man’s face, from his chin to his hairline, removing all traces of the frosting he had placed there seconds earlier.

Strange stood perfectly still and had closed his eyes. When he felt Loki pull away, he finally opened his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Do you have any idea, the effect you have on me?”

Loki’s eyes dropped down Stephen’s body, toward his hips. He grinned as he slowly raked his eyes back up the man’s long torso, stopping when they met eyes again. “Ohhh, I think I have an idea.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively and took a step backward – only to slide on an egg-yolk and start to stumble.

Stephen lunged forward, catching the mage by the elbows and just barely managing to keep him upright. They teetered unsteadily for a moment, still trying to find purchase amidst the flour on the tile floor. The two _almost_ managed, when Loki bumped into the kitchen counter and threw their delicate balance off once more.

The couple crashed to the floor, a tangle of limbs slipping and sliding in the assortment of baking ingredients. Finally, they gave up and settled onto the floor in a heap. Loki was laying on his back, with Stephen sprawled across him at an angle on his stomach. They were both covered in an array of food-stuffs.

“I think I landed on a whisk,” Loki said with a groan. “It’s stabbing me in the back.”

Stephen laughed and propped himself up on his elbows, turning to face the other man. Fully aware of the fact that he was laying across Loki’s lower half, he offered a lascivious grin and said, “I landed on something that’s poking me, too.”

Loki glared at him but wasn’t able to maintain it and snickered. “Something that would _like_ to poke you, more like.”

With a mock gasp, Stephen lifted himself up just enough to rotate and sit on his boyfriend, straddling Loki’s thighs with his own. He placed his hand on either side of the Trickster’s head and leaned down to peck him on the lips.

Peering around Stephen’s head, Loki furrowed his dark brows. “How did we get margarine on the ceiling, Strange?”

Stephen craned his neck to look up, only to have Loki tilt forward and nip at his exposed jugular.

“Not fair!” Stephen complained, coughing a bit from the pressure Loki had placed on his throat.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Loki replied, his voice oozing with theatricality.

“Are you saying you love me?” Stephen asked in a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow.

Loki’s face suddenly turned serious. The smile was gone and he was staring up at Stephen with an odd expression in his cool eyes. It only took a second for the Sorcerer to register the look – it was a hopeful, vulnerable expression like he’d never really seen in Loki.

“Wait a second,” Stephen hoisted himself up and off Loki, so that he was sitting on the floor beside him. Loki pulled himself up, sitting with his legs outstretched in front of him. He suddenly became fascinated with a puddle of milk on the floor, tracing his fingers through it and refusing to meet Stephen’s gaze. “Loki?” Stephen asked softly.

Loki sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. “It was just a turn of phrase, Strange. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” Stephen said, pressing a hand to Loki’s chest. “Please?” he added, imploringly. He removed his hand from Loki’s chest, leaving a white flour-caked imprint which made him chuckle slightly. Crooking a finger under the mage’s chin, Stephen turned his face so they were eye-to-eye.

“Don’t try to play this off,” Stephen said again, more insistently but still gentle. “Just. . . just, say what you mean.”

Loki narrowed his eyes and looked at the human, appraising and assessing him. He was searching for some kind of tell, some hint that Stephen was lying or toying with him, or that he would use information or actions against Loki at some later date. It’s what Loki always did when he was afraid of being manipulated – which, of course, he always assumed was the case because that’s how it had been in the past. Not to mention, he tended to always be manipulating others.

But the Asgardian let his gaze soften when he looked at Stephen and saw only honesty and kindness, the gentleness and sincerity that he had come to know from the doctor. What he had come to _love_.

Loki sucked in a shaky breath and forced himself to maintain eye contact. “Stephen,” Loki said quietly.

And that one word – just his name being said in _that_ way, with those eyes – that was all the confession he needed. Stephen cupped Loki’s cheek and pulled him forward into a kiss. It was soft and sweet and perfect. Loki leaned forward, bracing himself on Stephen’s knee with one hand and wrapping an arm around his shoulder with the other so he could tug him even closer. The kiss deepened. It remained just as sweet, but was harder, more intense, _needier_.

After a moment, they pulled back, just barely though, to catch their breath. Stephen stroked Loki’s cheek with his thumb and smiled against his lips.

“You smell like chocolate,” Loki whispered, making his human laugh.

Stephen gave him a chaste kiss and leaned back a bit more, assessing the damage of the kitchen. He looked around and sighed. “This place really is a mess.” With a frown, he put his hand down to rest on Loki’s thigh. “I don’t see a future for us as bakers.”

“No?” Loki asked, teasingly.

The doctor kissed him hard, pushing him back to lay on the floor again. After repositioning himself so he was once again laying on top of Loki, Stephen went to work, kissing his way down Loki’s jaw and neck. He licked away whatever remnants of baking ingredients he could find, rotating between cleaning his boyfriend with his tongue and placing kisses that would leave territorial marks on that pale white neck and collarbone.

“Do you know what I think?” Loki asked as he wrapped his arms around Stephen.

“What?” Strange asked, stopping his ministrations so he could look at Loki.

The Trickster ran his fingernails in Stephen’s hair at the nape of his neck and smiled up at him. “This baking thing was a disaster,” he conceded. He arched up to kiss Stephen on the cheek. “But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Strange raised an eyebrow. “Even if it means no cake?”

Loki laughed. “If I have to choose between cake, or this—” he squeezed Stephen’s shoulders and shifted slightly, to point out their closeness and the intimacy. “—I would choose this every time.”

“Because you love me?” Stephen asked, his voice playful but slightly hesitant.

With a gulp, Loki nodded. “Because I love you, Stephen Strange.”

Stephen kissed him properly on the lips again before leaning down by his ear and whispering, “I love you, too.”


	7. Elixir of the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Loki are thirsty.

“What an odd time to be drinking coffee. Will you not have trouble sleeping later?”

“I have trouble sleeping no matter what I drink, no matter the time I choose to do it.”

Stephen’s sharp look did not escape him, and Loki gave a light scoff. “You can diagnose me some other time, Doctor. Just not tonight. And preferably when I’m not here.”

“How do you take your coffee?”

Loki bestowed upon him an incredulous look that dwarfed all the other looks he had ever given Stephen before.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. Black and strong?”

“Well of course. How else does one drink coffee?”

“You have no idea the ways people butcher coffee these days. Robusta alright?”

“No. Arabica, please. Colombian, if you have any.”

“Of course.” Stephen could not help feeling something was amiss, what with the way Loki was playing with the frayed seams of the armrest. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no. I’m just in the mood for something…mellow.”

“As am I.” Stephen handed Loki his cup of coffee.

Loki peered into Stephen’s own drink. “Hot chocolate, Doctor?”

“I don’t have it very often. Only when I’m having trouble sleeping.”

Loki stared at him with such an earnest look in his eyes that it made Stephen laugh.

Loki peered into his cup and would not drink just yet.

As though sensing Loki needed slightly more encouragement, Stephen stepped up to the plate as he was wont to do in this sort of awkward social situation, in which he was the more eloquent, surprisingly. “Kindred spirits, us two.”

“Hardly.” Now Loki was smiling too. “For one thing, what are those things bobbing up and down like –” _decomposed heads in a cesspool_? he wanted to say.

Stephen spared him the effort of looking for something to say of a more culturally sensitive nature. “What, these? Marshmallows.”

Loki wrinkled his nose. “A guilty pleasure?”

“Not as much guilt as nostalgia, really.” Stephen took a sip. Creamy and decadent, just the way

“My mother used to make it for u-” Stephen caught himself, “ - _me_ way back when.”

“I see.” Loki’s eyes had softened. He took a sip from his own cup and hummed in approval.

“Like it?”

“Very much, thank you.” Loki sighed in the kind of pleasure only a good cup of coffee could bring. “If only I could wake up to this every morning.”

Stephen licked his suddenly dry lips. “If only,” he mumbled.

But if it was wishful thinking on Stephen’s part, it did not catch on for Loki only nodded distractedly.

It filled Stephen with a mix of disappointment and relief. He got that a lot nowadays.

He’d better say something interesting, and say it fast. “The first drinkers of coffee, as we know it in the modern world, originated from modern-day Yemen in southern Arabia in the middle of the 15th century in Sufi shrines.”

“The Elixir of the Gods.” Loki swirled his cup languidly like one would swirl a glass of wine. “Yet another one.”

Stephen quirked an eyebrow.

“Quetzalcóatl was revered by the Aztecs not only as the God of Priesthood, Knowledge and Trade, but also…of cocoa.”

“Now I know whom to thank for chocolate.” 

“He deserves more than thanks, I think. He was condemned by the other Gods for sharing such sacred delicacy with the humans. Driven out by the God of the Night Sky Tezcatlipoca by way of the darkest magic, Quetzalcóatl took himself down to the shores of the ‘divine water’, the Atlantic Ocean as you now call it, and set himself on fire on a pyre.”

“Gosh.” Stephen stared at the drink in his hand with new eyes. “That is sad.”

“You would think so. But upon immolating himself, not only did he not die, he was resurrected and emerged from the embers as the planet Venus.”

Stephen shook his head and placed his half-empty mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table.

“I don’t know why I believe your stories…” Stephen shifted onto his side on the couch, casually laying his bent knee in the cradle of Loki’s crossed legs. “But I do.”

His eyes reluctantly landed on the general area of Loki’s lips. “Had anyone else told them, I would have told him to take a hike.”

“It would not do to treat me any differently, Doctor.” Loki gave a coquettish smile. “I might start to think that I am…special.”

“Have I ever given you any indication that you are anything but?”

Loki knew not what to say in return.

“The things you say sometimes, Doctor," he finally managed.

“I believe the things _you_ say, Loki.” Stephen smiled gently. “Do me the courtesy of doing the same.”

“Alright. I will humour you just this once, Stephen.” More out of curiousity than anything else, really – “In what way am I special?”

“If one were to look up at the sky, day or night, and pick out a star…the brightest star…” Stephen’s eyes bored deep into Loki’s soul. “It is likely that you are staring at Venus.”

“Sometimes one must burn in order to shine.” A bright flame ignited Loki’s irises, brilliant and iridescent. “I do not wish to burn anymore. Not for anyone.”

“Venus shines not because it’s on fire. At 26 million miles away, not only it is very close to us, its thick atmosphere is highly reflective. It’s the sunlight bouncing off its atmosphere that makes it glow.”

“Ah yes.” For some reason, the fire had dimmed and all but left Loki’s eyes. “Some of us have no choice but to live eternally in someone else’s shadow.”

“Hey. We’ve talked about this.” Stephen ducked his head to peer up Loki’s suddenly downcast face. “No down-talking youself.”

Loki looked up unhappily.

“You should have seen the state he was in when he thought you lost forever. One does not mourn the loss of one’s shadow quite so keenly.”

“Did _you_ mourn?” Loki asked softly.

If Stephen smoked, this would probably be the time he would light one up. It seemed apt, the mood. “I didn’t know you back then.”

“Come now, Doctor. You would have me believe _that_ when you opened a portal beneath my feet and so kindly reunited my Brother and I with our beloved Father.”

Now there was no escaping it.

“I knew _of_ you.”

“And now?” Loki scooted closer, and suddenly it was not just Stephen’s knee in his lap. “What do you know now?’

“Now I know…that if anything should happen to you…” Stephen danced his fingers across the back of Loki’s hand dangling over the backrest. “I would not mourn.”

Loki’s hand gave the subtlest jerk.

Stephen, not knowing if Loki intended to pull it away, sought the upper hand, literally and figuratively, by keeping Loki’s hand in place, grasping the cold fingers in a grip so tight they blanched.

And to solidify his claim over this immortal face, with his heavenly body and the most tender of heart…

“For it certainly would kill me too.”

Loki’s eyes welled. “The things you say, Doctor…”

Stephen sought Loki’s lips. “Repetition is key, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drought has been long, yet the chapter is short. Hope it's enough to tide us over till our next offering! L.


	8. Why are all the euphemisms food-related?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to WanderingZigzag for the inspiration for this episode. Not sure if this is really what you were expecting to get, Zigzag - but I swear, I have been trying to write this for a solid week & every time I started it, the boys had different ideas & I lost control of the narrative rather quickly (so, good news, I now have several drafts of things I started & may eventually come back to!). Anyway, when I finally put my nose to the grindstone, this is what we ended up with - hope y'all enjoy this little mess of somethin' (I honestly don't know lol).
> 
> xoxo,  
Doc

Loki had been acting odd lately.

Which, honestly, is saying something. Because when you’re dating a centuries-old Norse deity from outer space, the delineation of _normalcy_ becomes a bit relative.

But Stephen had become familiar with Loki’s moods and quirks, with all the things that simply made him Loki. They had their ups and downs but all in all they learned and grew together. And the most important thing Stephen learned, with each revelation about Loki, was that he was undeniably, irrevocably, hopelessly in love with the Asgardian. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

So, when Loki started acting different, Stephen couldn’t help but notice. And worry.

It started a few days after Thanksgiving when Stephen woke up in the middle of the night to find Loki’s side of the bed empty. Loki frequently woke up from nightmares, but he usually used Stephen as an anchor to get him through them (although, he would never admit that).

Stephen had climbed out of bed, wrapped his robe around him, and went off in search of his boyfriend.

Eventually, he found him downstairs, in front of the television, clicking through Netflix. Stephen walked up behind him and leaned over the couch, wrapping his arms around Loki’s chest.

“What are you doing up?” Stephen asked in Loki’s ear.

A shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Stephen frowned. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Loki sighed, continuing to scroll through menu options on the TV screen. “Because you were sleeping. It seemed foolish for both of us to have a poor night’s sleep.”

Stephen was about to argue that point, but Loki suddenly set the remote down and turned on the couch so they could look at each other better. “Do you know of a merchant that would be open at this hour?”

It took Stephen a minute to think before nodding. “I think there are some Wal-Marts that are still open. Or all-night convenience stores.”

Loki nodded thoughtfully. “At either of those places, would I be able to procure something called Eggos?”

Stephen straightened up and chuckled softly. “Um, I don’t see why not.”

With that, Loki sat up on his knees and leaned over the edge of the couch. “In that case, I shall be right back.”

“What? Loki, wait!—” but Stephen’s protests fell on deaf ears as Loki disappeared in a shimmer of green and gold.

So, with a heavy sigh, Stephen moved around to the front of the couch and laid down across it. He must have dozed off because when he opened his eyes next, sunlight was filtering in through the Sanctum’s windows. Sitting up, Stephen rubbed his eyes. Then, he looked down at the coffee table and snickered.

There was a plate with a couple Eggo waffles.

Stephen looked across the room, to where Loki was sitting in an armchair with his own plateful of Eggos.

“I see you found some,” Stephen commented as he picked up his fork. Loki nodded, swallowing the bite in his mouth. “Any particular reason why you had a sudden hankering for Eggos?” Strange asked.

Loki nodded toward the TV, which was now turned off. “Eleven loves them.” He shrugged as he cut off another piece of waffle.

“Eleven?” Stephen quirked up an eyebrow before it clicked. He shook his head fondly. “You were watching _Stranger Things_, weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Loki conceded in a soft voice. Then, he stood up and took his empty plate into the kitchen without another word, leaving Stephen to eat his Eggo alone.

*

* *

*

After the Eggo ‘incident,’ Loki was quieter than he’d ever been. Subdued, almost.

Every now and then, Loki would ask some random question or make some off-hand statement, causing Stephen to grow more and more concerned.

One day, while Stephen was in his office, Loki poked his head in the doorway. “Strange?”

Stephen lowered the tome he was translating and glanced up. “Yes, love?”

“What do you know about basting a turkey?” Loki queried. At Stephen’s inquisitive look, Loki quickly said, “Never mind,” before disappearing. Even though Stephen jumped up and tried to follow him, he couldn’t catch his boyfriend. And Loki apparently didn’t want to be found.

*

* *

*

A few days later, while visiting Thor in New Asgard, Valkyrie was being particularly insistent about wanting to spar with Loki. He looked like he was considering it when Val amended her request.

“Actually, since I don’t have much in the way of female competition here,” Val glared at Thor, who actually shrank back under the gaze. “I was wondering if I might challenge Lady Loki?”

At that, Loki froze. A second later, he recovered, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“C’mon, Lackey!” Val whined. “Please?” She grabbed Loki by the wrist and pouted. “You love sparring! And I’ve not seen your Lady self for what feels like _ages_.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Thor snorted. “And last time you did, you got piss-drunk and tried to coax her into your bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if my sister never showed her face around you again, Brunnhilde.”

Val’s face turned red – out of embarrassment or anger, it was impossible to tell (maybe both). Loki simply groaned and stalked away, disappearing to his chambers. When Stephen found him later for supper, he was curled up on the bed.

“Loki?” Stephen asked as he gingerly climbed onto the mattress with his lover.

“I’m fine, Stephen,” Loki said, preempting the doctor’s concern.

Stephen rolled his eyes and laid down next to Loki so they were facing each other, noses inches apart. “I don’t believe that,” he whispered. “Why don’t you come and eat?”

Loki made a face of disgust. “I couldn’t possibly, Strange.”

“Why not?” Stephen asked, becoming increasingly anxious.

Rolling onto his back, Loki sighed. “These days, it seems I either have no appetite at all, or enough to be eating for two.”

Stephen tensed. But Loki didn’t seem to notice. “Today is the former. I don’t want anything. I just want to sleep.” With that, he rolled over so his back was to Stephen.

After a moment, Stephen scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Loki’s waist. He could hear Loki let out a huff of irritation. “You should go and eat.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Strange replied. He then tugged Loki closer, settling them into a spooning position, and whispered, “Good night, Sweet Prince.”

*

* *

*

Now, Stephen had just gotten back to the Sanctum after being away with the Avengers all day. Loki rushed him the second he walked in, jumping into his arms and hugging him tightly.

“Well, hello to you, too!” Stephen laughed while Loki nuzzled his neck. “What’s going on?”

Loki extricated himself from his boyfriend’s hold and grabbed his hands, a wistful smile on his face and his eyes sparkling. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

“Me, too.” Stephen’s voice rumbled, suggestively grabbing at Loki’s waist. But his hands were swatted away.

“Not right now!” Loki gave him a stern, reprimanding look. He jerked his head toward the stairs. “Go wash up. I’ve made supper.”

Stephen grinned at him. “Oh? What’s the special occasion?”

Loki started backing away, shrugging and looking down almost sheepishly. Stephen started for the stairs. Then, he heard Loki say, “We have a bun in the oven.”

And Stephen froze. He whirled around, but Loki was gone. He decided to forego washing up as he’d been told to do, because he really needed to talk to Loki. As the doctor rushed into the kitchen, Loki fixed him with a confused look.

“Stephen, what are you—”

Strange interrupted him, all but shouting, “What did you mean?”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “About what?”

Stephen sat down at one of the bar-stools, trying to gather his thoughts. “Okay. I’m gonna tell you something and I want you to promise not to get mad or take it the wrong way because I mean it in the most loving possible way and am just worried about you.”

“I don’t like this,” Loki grumbled. He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. “Get on with it.”

“You’ve been acting odd lately.” Stephen said slowly, as if that would somehow cushion the words.

“Really?” Loki’s voice was low and dark. “Do tell.”

Stephen almost cowered at the dangerous edge in his boyfriend’s tone. But he didn’t. Instead, he started listing items: “Um, well, your sleep schedule is disrupted. Your appetite has been fluctuating. You’ve been having unusual cravings. And there have been a few mood swings.”

“Mood swings?” Loki growled.

“Yes, Loki!” Stephen exclaimed, trying to defend his position. “You got pretty upset with the Valkyrie the other day when she asked about sparring, and you ended up disappearing to your room. Where you said you were exhausted, and you made that comment about your appetite. . .”

“Just what are you implying, Strange?” Loki was, to his credit, holding it together quite well. Although it was plain to see he was seething, just beneath the surface.

Stephen went back through Loki’s behavior and comments over the last couple weeks, steeling himself to speak. “You almost seem to be exhibiting symptoms of. . .”

“Of what?”

“Pregnancy?” Stephen muttered, looking down at the counter. It came out more like a question than a statement and was very quiet. But of course Loki heard it. When Loki didn’t speak, Strange assumed he was in deep shit. So he started trying to back-pedal. “It’s just, the way you’ve been acting and some of the things you’ve said. I mean, I don’t know, but that’s what it seems like to me. And it almost feels like you know about it and have been trying to tell me, like hinting at it or something?”

Finally, he looked up and met Loki’s eyes. Instead of being angry, Loki was looking at him with some other unreadable expression. “What kinds of things have I been saying?” he asked quietly.

Stephen sighed. “Well, you just said you have a bun in the oven!” Loki cocked his head to the side in a way that would have been comical in any other situation. Strange clarified, “That’s a common euphemism for one who is pregnant.”

Shaking his head, Loki pointed toward the oven. “I am literally baking bread, Stephen.” He reached across the counter, holding up an empty package. It had a Pillsbury label on it, for flaky butter biscuits.

Stephen felt his cheeks burn. “Oh.” Then, he frowned. “What about that thing you said about eating for two?”

“I just meant that sometimes I feel like I could enough for two people.” Loki was speaking slowly, condescendingly.

“Okay, but the other day you asked about basting a turkey! What was that about?”

Loki groaned, dropping his head down to the counter. Finally, he lifted his head to answer: “Parker said he wanted to prepare a turkey this year for Christmas, so that his aunt wouldn’t have to. He asked if I would help him figure out how to do it.” He scrunched up his nose. “Why would that make you think about _pregnancy_?”

“It’s another euphemism,” Stephen murmured. He exhaled. “So, the Eggo thing – that was really about _Stranger Things_ and just you wanting Eggos?”

“Yes,” Loki dragged the word out. “Why?” He snorted. “That can’t possibly be a euphemism, too.”

Stephen ran his hands over his face. “Actually, it is.”

Loki gaped at him. “Are all you mortals really _that_ obsessed with food?”

Stephen ignored the question, assuming it was rhetorical. He was pretty sure his entire face was pure red by now. “Just. Don’t ask.” He waved a hand in defeat. Finally, Stephen stood up and walked around the counter, grabbing Loki’s hands in his. “I’m sorry, babe. I acted kind of crazy for a minute there.” He pulled Loki into a hug.

“Stephen?” Loki asked, his face pressed into Stephen’s neck.

“Hmm?”

“What if I had been pregnant?” Loki pulled away and held his hands up. “I’m not, truly. But.” He bit his lip. “What if I were? I mean, is that. . . is that something you would want?”

Stephen looked into Loki’s eyes and saw all the emotions that the god usually hid: Pain, fear, the need for approval, love, sincerity, vulnerability, and, more than anything, _hope_.

With a shaky breath, Stephen cupped Loki’s cheek. “I think so.” Then, after thinking for a moment, he nodded and more firmly stated, “Yes, I would want that, Loki.”

The surprise on Loki’s face made Stephen’s heart ache.

“You would?” He asked in utter disbelief. “You would have a child with me?”

With a smile, Stephen found that the answer was easy. “I would.” Then, he added, “Someday, maybe we can.”

Loki crashed their lips together, clutching the front of Stephen’s shirt and pulling him close. They broke the kiss, but kept their foreheads pressed together. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re real,” Loki whispered. He leaned back slightly and looked into Stephen’s gray eyes. “I can’t figure you out, Strange.”

“Why?” Stephen asked, just as quiet and breathless.

“Because,” Loki stated, “I still can’t understand why someone like you would want someone like me.” His eyes dropped away.

“Hey.” Stephen placed a finger under Loki’s chin, lifting his head so their eyes met again. “In case you forgot, I love you, Loki Friggason.” Then, addressing the unspoken question, Stephen said, “Of course I think about a future with you. The only future I can imagine anymore is one with you by my side. And yes, Loki, I could see a family being part of that future.”

Loki melted into Stephen’s arms and they just stood there, holding each other for several minutes. The silence was broken by the _ding _of a timer and Loki finally allowed the tension to leave his body. “The buns are ready,” he said, moving to the oven.

The Asgardian grabbed a hot-pad and pulled the baking sheet out of the oven, with the biscuits a perfect golden brown. Stephen chuckled softly. “Look at that, you can bake as long as I’m not around.”

Loki turned to him, looking very serious. He closed the distance between them and kissed Stephen gently. “I’ll always need you around, Doctor.” He offered a sad little smile. “Shall I tell you why I’ve been, as you say, so _odd_ lately?” Loki offered.

Stephen opened his mouth to ask if Loki was certain, but he stopped. He knew the other wouldn’t have made the offer if he wasn’t sure. Instead, Stephen just nodded and waited.

With a sigh, Loki leaned against the counter. Hesitantly, he began, “I was born around the time of the Winter Solstice. . .” He ran his hand through his hair.

“Are you saying that you’ve been acting differently because of your birthday?” Stephen couldn’t quite hide the incredulity in his voice.

Loki inhaled sharply. “Asgardians don’t really celebrate birthdays as you Midgardians do. I, especially, have not considered my birth something to celebrate since I learned of my heritage. It always felt like a lie, I suppose.”

“So, why now?” Stephen asked.

Loki shrugged. “We’ve celebrated your birthday, and those of all your Avengers. I suppose it was inevitable that when the time came, I would think of my own.”

“And it’s depressing?” Stephen guessed, trailing his fingers up Loki’s arm.

“It was, at first,” Loki admitted. “But eventually, and especially now, I realized something,” he paused to lean in close, pushing his forehead against Stephen’s. “Every year that passes here on Midgard is another year I get to spend with you. And that,_ elskan_, is worth celebrating.”

They kissed again, soft and slow at first, but quickly heating up. Loki kissed his way down Stephen’s neck, earning pleased noises.

“So, do we have a cake?” Stephen asked, only half-joking.

Loki stood up straight. “No.” He tapped his chin in thought. “But we have biscuits,” he nodded toward the baking sheet.

Then Stephen’s eyes lit up. “Or,” he whispered huskily, “there’s a brand new can of Redi-Whip in the fridge.” Loki’s face sparkled with mischief.

Soon, they tumbled into bed together. And later, when they were both satisfied and curled together, just as they were dozing off, Stephen pressed his lips to Loki’s temple and whispered, “Happy birthday, my Prince.”


	9. Kiss the Cook

“We might have to go out and get something to eat,” Stephen said apologetically, knowing if there was one thing Loki hated more than going out in public, it was going out in public in the middle of a weekend dinner rush _and_ after a bloody altercation with aliens from outer space from which they barely escaped alive. “I haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks.”

Loki dropped his ass heavily into a chair and his head onto the kitchen table. 

Stephen winced at the resounding _thunk_ that Loki’s forehead made upon impact. “Please try not to give yourself an even bigger concussion than the one you already have.”

Loki only grunted unenthusiastically. 

Stephen braced himself and opened the fridge. If they were lucky, Wong would have at least replenished the essentials before he left for his sabbatical a few days ago. 

A lone, shrivelled avocado and a half-empty carton of yoghurt stared back at him.

“Yep.” Stephen shut the fridge door glumly. “No luck.”

Loki peered through sunken eyes and silently pointed at something above the fridge. 

Stephen reached up and retrieved the item that had caught Loki’s eye. He grimaced as his fingers came away sticky with sludge.

He was about to chuck the blackened, mushy bananas into the bin when Loki stopped him with a tired, “Stop.”

Stephen frowned. “These bananas are rotten. You can’t eat them.”

“They are not rotten.” Loki rose to join him at the kitchen counter. “They are just overripe.”

“Loki, I can just order a pizza or something. Go take a shower and by the time you’re done, it’ll be here.”

Loki tsk-tsked. “What has become of man that you should discard something just because it has lost its aesthetic value?”

Stephen wondered if he was setting himself up for an elaborate prank. “This coming from an alien prince who would rather sleep naked than borrow something of mine.”

“I only wear fine cotton, you know that.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “All I wear since I met you is Egyptian cotton, Loki, it can’t get any finer than that.”

“Then you obviously haven’t gone clothes shopping in Xandar,” Loki said coolly. 

“Obviously,” Stephen sighed. 

He watched curiously as Loki peeled the mottled skin off the bananas one by one and placed them in a large mixing bowl. “What are you doing?”

“Go sit down,” Loki said mildly. “Or take that shower. This will only take ten, fifteen minutes tops.”

“Then I’d rather watch.” Stephen added hurriedly, “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Not really,” Loki shrugged. “I’m used to being watched.”

“I bet,” Stephen said dryly. A cup of tea appeared in his hand by magic and he took a sip, preparing himself for another one of Loki’s acts of genius.

Two cups of all-purpose flour joined the mushy bananas, then a pinch of salt and a few generous spoonfuls of sugar – a few seconds later, the dry component was doused with ice-cold water, and Loki got down to whisking. 

“Do me a favour and heat up some oil in the frying pan, could you please?” 

Stephen did as he was told. His eyes fell on some banana chunks Loki had left out, either on purpose or “You missed a few.”

“No, I did not,” Loki replied calmly, and bumped his hip into Stephen, pushing him out of the way.

Stephen took that as a sign that he should just step back and let Loki do his thing; his icy lover had a habit of chasing people out (Stephen, specifically...and out of his own bedroom, no less) whenever Loki became too annoyed, which unfortunately was quite a frequent occurrence.

With a deft scooping motion, Loki used the tips of his fingers to drop small balls of batter into the hot oil, like one would drop potstickers into boiling water. 

Soon, the kitchen was filled with the most pleasant aroma, and Stephen was surprised to find himself swallowing more often; he certainly did not expect to find the smell of deep-fried banana dumplings enticing, let alone appetising to the point of salivating. 

Once the balls turned golden brown, Loki scooped them out of the oil and onto a serving platter. Wordlessly he handed the platter over to Stephen who dutifully brought it to the table. 

Just when Stephen thought Loki was done, a sudden chill fell over the room and he nearly dropped the plates and cutlery he was about to set the table with in utter surprise.

“What are you doing?”

Eyes red as rubies stared back at him as long, tapered fingers held the leftover bananas in between two palms as blue as the sea. 

“Magic?” Loki said simply, his sly smirk no less devious in Jotun form. “Do you have a food processor?”

“Whu-what?” Stephen stammered, tearing his eyes away from the intricate markings on Loki’s face. Loki looked like a magnificent painting. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Where is your food processor?” Loki repeated patiently. 

“Bottom left-hand drawer,” Stephen managed to say, before finding himself speechless again at the sight of Loki bending over to reach the aforementioned drawer. 

Stephen cleared his throat loudly. It would not do to get himself unnecessarily aroused. “You, uh, need a hand?”

“Get me the peanut butter from the pantry, would you? And some honey, if there’s any.”

“There should be.” Stephen rummaged through the dry pantry and handed the items over once he found them.

Loki tossed the frozen bananas into the food processor. He dumped the last of the full-fat Greek yoghurt in, followed by several dollops of peanut butter. 

With the enthusiasm of a child given his first free rein of the kitchen, Loki squeezed the bottle of raw honey into the blender with more excitement than was healthy, before giving the food processor a quick whizz. 

Loki poured the creamy concoction out into a bowl. Once again, a deep, bone-rattling chill fell over the kitchen and icy vapour billowed from the blue hands cupping the sides of the bowl. 

“This would normally take a few hours in the freezer to set – ” Loki placed the bowl in the middle of the table, “But lucky for you, I’ve got very cold hands.”

“Uh-uh.” Stephen stared at the bowl of frozen yoghurt in awe.

“Bad circulation, didn’t you say?” Loki teased. 

“Now that I know you can make ice cream out of nothing in minutes, there will be no further complaints from me,” Stephen said gleefully, scooping some of the frozen yoghurt onto a plate. The still steaming deep-fried banana balls touched one side of the mountain of frozen yoghurt, melting it into a tantalising sauce. 

“This smells wonderful,” Stephen sighed blissfully and his stomach rumbled loudly. He was about to take the first bite when Loki’s soft laughter halted his fork en route to his mouth –

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Loki whispered huskily. 

Stephen looked up and his jaw may or may not have dropped a little, for not only had Loki reverted back to his Aesir form, the sorcerer prince was stark naked except for an apron wrapped around his slender body. 

Emblazoned across the pristine white bodice was the phrase ‘Kiss the Cook’ in bold, gold lettering. 

Stephen was only too happy to oblige; his chair creaked noisily across the floorboard as he pushed it back in haste to reach for his Ice Prince.

“You never cease to surprise me, you know that,” Stephen murmured against Loki’s soft, soft lips. It took all he had not to lift Loki bodily onto the kitchen counter, and go straight for dessert –

“Every time I think you’re this spoiled little alien prince whose indulgences and wishes I can never hope to fulfill, you do something totally unexpected and prove me wrong.” 

Stephen punctuated his last words with three kisses, each deeper than the one before. “Every – single – time.”

“Well...as much as I like the finer things in life...” Loki wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist. “It is a world of excess we are living in.” 

“I have witnessed and lived through so many wars, Stephen.”

His eyes glazed over.

“I have watched great civilisations fall, but none touched me as deeply as those that had succumbed to famine.” A whisper. “I would not wish the pain of starvation on anyone.”

Stephen felt his throat tighten. “Loki...”

As abruptly as it had left, the light returned to Loki’s eyes once more. 

“Don’t let good things go to waste, Strange.” Stephen felt Loki’s arms tighten around his waist, and something in his chest twisted. 

“Never.” 

He grabbed the sides of Loki’s face and found himself thanking the Powers That Be, the Vishanti, God, the Norns, or Whoever It Was that had brought this one good thing in his life – 

“I promise I won’t.”

“Good.” Loki finally cracked the barest of smiles, teary and grateful. He looked absolutely radiant. “Shall we eat?”

Stephen nodded, and made sure he savoured the meal down to the very last bite; a simple fare it was, but it was by far the most delicious one he had ever had. 

And as for dessert? 

Well. Suffice to say that Stephen was not going to be chased out of his bedroom anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [LINK](https://discord.gg/VRTCfCM) to join the Froststrange Sanctum discord server! Join us now!


	10. Brain Food

“What do you fancy for dinner tonight?”

Loki gave an exaggerated gasp. “You mean it’s my turn to choose? Finally?”

Stephen wondered if it was too late to rescind the offer. “Hmm. Now that I think about it...”

“Oh no, no Strange. No thinking. No changing your mind. Or mine.” Loki rolled off the bed with a speed so inhuman that in the blink of an eye, Stephen found himself staring up at a vision clad in...a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of chinos.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Stephen’s heart began to pound.

“I’m in the mood for fondue,” Loki announced grandly. 

Okay. Reasonable so far. The idea of having fondue for dinner was...pretty out there, but still pretty reasonable. For Loki’s standards.

“Cheese fondue? Sure.”

Loki levelled him with an imperious look. “I don’t eat dairy after 5 p.m.”

Some things were just too good to be true. “Chocolate?” 

The look of disgust on Loki’s face was extraordinary. “I thought you were the expert on healthy eating around here.”

Before Stephen could provide his counterargument with a photographic evidence of Loki’s idea of healthy eating –

_“Tuslob buwa.”_

Stephen’s fingers suddenly felt too stiff to do the zipper on his jumper. “What?” 

“Set your portal GPS for Cebu City.”

“Where?” Stephen must have heard Loki wrong, but just in case he didn’t, he was certainly not going to let a space viking trump him in world geography. “The Philippines?” 

Loki nodded, eyes all lit up like stars.

Far be it from Stephen to deny his lover anything...

“Did you watch another one of those weird food shows on Netflix again?” Stephen demanded. 

“Well, you’ve left me no choice,” Loki pouted. “What do you expect, after you made me promise never to watch Bizarre Foods ever again?”

“Have you forgotten what happened in Korea?”

“It wasn’t the octopus’ fault. You just swallowed it wrong.”

“I almost died, Loki!” Stephen said heatedly. He had yet to recover from the traumatic experience of struggling to hold his breath long enough to dislodge the poor critter’s suction cups off the wall of his throat. 

“But it tasted good,” Loki purred, wrapping his arms around the back of Stephen’s neck. “Didn’t it?”

“Can’t we just order a pizza or something?” Stephen begged. “You can have as many anchovies as you want, I promise I won’t complain – ”

“You didn’t complain when we went to Lima and you had those anticuchos.” 

“The Peruvians sure know how to grill them cow hearts,” Stephen admitted, acutely aware of Loki’s soft hand kneading his shoulder, the soothing sensation of a cajoling thumb running up and down the side of his neck...

How could he win such an impossible battle? 

“Fine. _Fine_.” Stephen hung his head with a sigh of defeat. “So what is this Too-Slow Bulla thing then? Is that the name of the restaurant we’re going? A tribe? A food festival?”

“A _dish_. An iconic street food, perfectly balanced and very cheap, or so I’m told.”

“I’m loving the sound of it already,” Stephen said dryly.

“I’m so proud of you, Stephen.” Loki looked at him adoringly. “You’ve certainly become more adventurous, considering how short the human life span is.”

_Adventurous? Short? Life span?_

“It’s not...we’re not eating live octopus again, are we?” True panic began to stir the pit of Stephen’s already churning stomach. There were simply too many trigger words in that one sentence, too many! “Loki???”

“Oh no, no. Nothing as exotic as that,” Loki chirped. “It’s just compressed rice dumplings dipped in broth made out of lard, soy sauce and pig brains.” 

_I would do anything for love_

A song only Stephen could hear began to play in his head, loud and mocking. 

_Yes, I would do anything for love_

Loki peered in Stephen’s face. “Hmm. You’re suddenly looking very pale there, Stephen. We might have to ask them to throw in some pig liver too. Get your iron levels up.”

_But I won’t do that_

Loki gestured hurriedly. “Come on! Do your boom-boom-whoosh thing! Last one out of the portal is a rotten egg!”

Oh who was he kidding. _Of course_ he would. 

Sometimes love was not about saying those three words. 

Stephen snaked his arm around Loki’s neck and pulled his lover in for a long, slow kiss. 

“Lead the way,” he said huskily.

That’s still three words, he thought, but Loki’s return kiss was too sweet, too deep for it to mean anything else. 

_I love you too_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something short and fun to celebrate my love for food & travel. I pray that the pandemic will end soon, stay healthy everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Got a foodie idea for Loki & Stephen? Leave it in a comment and maybe we'll write it. :)


End file.
